Where do we go when we die
by Hunterkiller15
Summary: Where do we go when we die? I hope somewhere warm. Please leave feedback and let me know if you want more! Rated M For language, violence and sexual content.
1. Chapter 1: War

"Poppa..? Where do we go when we die.…?"

"I don't know son, But I like to believe that God takes us to someplace happy."

\- Normamdy, France.

"Hey! New kid! Where you from?" Sergeant Kofax asks the young man distracted by his own thoughts, the landing craft bouncing on the waves, the sound of machine gun fire chattering in the distance.

"Anoka sir." The young man says, looking towards the Sergeant, the lumbering craft gaining more and more ground in its advance towards the beach, Omaha beach, to be precise. The men bearing the insignia of the 1st Infantry division, better known as the "Big Red One", by its members and fellow soldiers.

"Anoka? Where's that?" The Sergeant asks,a spray of seawater splashing over the hull.

"Minnesota Sir, I was born there." The young man replies, looking forward to the mass of helmets and rifles in the landing craft.

"I'm from Brooklyn, New york, Ma was born in Minneapolis." The Sergeant replies, looking forward as well, the driver looking back.

"Thirty seconds to landing!" The driver shouts, looking back to the beach, The soldiers readying themselves for the onslaught.

"I hope you make it home kid. I never got your name." The Sergeant says, loading a magazine into his M1A1 Thompson Submachine gun.

"Likewise sir. And its Mycroft. Donald William Mycroft. Say hi to your Ma for me." Donald says, shaking hands with the Sergeant, the craft lumbering towards steel tank traps.

"Will do kid. Names Lawrence, Call me Larry and I'll knock your teeth out. I'm gonna call you Donny." Lawrence replies with a strong shake of the boys hand. They both get ready to land the machine gun fire growing ever so loud, rounds ricocheting off the hull of the craft, some of the men flinching from the sound. The boat hits land, the ramp dropping, the men in front are all but ripped apart from merciless machine gun fire, Lawrence and Donald moving quickly off the craft, finding cover behind a sand dune.

"Christ! The Krauts have it in for us! You good Donny!?" Lawrence yells of the constant chattering of the machineguns, Donald looking over and nodding, he pops up over the tank trap, firing at the guns in the bunker, but to no avail. The machine guns training their fire on other landing craft, Donald and Lawrence moving closer to the bunkers, meeting up with other men from the 1st I.D.

"Welcome to Omaha beach Sarge! What's the plan!?"

-Mistral, Remnant.

"You dolt! How did you manage to pull this off!?" The young Heiress shouts, a young Reaper hiding in the corner, covered in what the Heiress could only imagine being soot from fire dust. The Heiress sighs and grabs a towel, wiping the soot from the face of the Red Reaper.

"I'm sorry Weiss.. It slipped out of my hands and shattered..." The young reaper replies, looking at Weiss. The Heiress sighs and pats her head.

"It's quite alright ruby, just please be more careful before handling dust, and please ask permission next time." She says, giving the reaper a reassuring smile. Ruby looks towards the window as a rather harsh storm was battering the Mistral Inn . It was rather unusual for a storm of this size to come to remnant, it was almost ominous, like a sign of things to come.


	2. Author's Corner!

Hello everyone! I apologise if i update rather slow, is really hard for me to find motivation to keep stories up and fresh, I wanna take this time to thank those who have followed and left feedback, it has helped with my motivation, I will be adding more as I go, so please leaving feedback! Tell me what you wanna see more of! let me know if you have any ideas you would like to see! any Easter eggs you'd like to see as well! ;p

Thank you!

Ty,


	3. Chapter 2: Death, And Rebirth

**(Author's corner!**

**I am so sorry that this took so long to put out, i was struggling to find ideas to put on paper. But i hope you enjoy! Stay safe! Ty)**

(Inspiration: OOMPH! Auf Kurs)

Normandy, France

The battle for Omaha Beach rages on through the day. Donald Mycroft pushing through the barricades and tank traps, gaining ground and moving toward the dunes, his fellow soldiers close behind him. He watches on as his friends fall beside him, a group taking fire from a machine gun bunker. He notices a grenade fall close to them. Donald makes a quick, split second decision, darting from cover and towards the grenade, diving onto it and curling into a ball, praying to god for a quick, painless death. His prayers are interrupted by the blast.

Darkness engulfs him.

A light glowing at the end of a long passage.

The passage is long. The air cold and damp, The young soldier stumbles through the passage, flashes of his past memory searing though his brain.

His birth, the loving arms of his mother enveloping him.

"Do not give up dear… Push on… We're waiting for you child..." The voice whispers. Beckoning him further.

"Son.. Fight on boy… You are stronger than you know… Keep going..." Another voice whispers, calling him.

The young man stumbles, falling forward, he draags himself along, into the light.

Pain.


	4. Author's corner! (8112020 5:22PM)

Hey guys!

It's been a hot minute, and i haven't uploaded in awhile, But there should be a new chapter coming out real soon!


	5. Chapter 3: The Storm Subsides

The storm raged on in Mistral, lightning and thunder crashing and burning through the sky, almost matching the sounds of bombs dropping on a battlefield. One last triumphant crack of thunder shakes the Inn, a bright flash of lightning, and the lights go out, the two panicking and quickly lighting candles, "What in the name of Oum was that?" The heiress asked, trying to calm herself, the Red Reaper looked around, trying to find her scroll, "I thing a bolt of lighting hit a transformer... I guess we'll just have to wait until the power company fixes it..." She said softly, sitting on the couch, as they attempt to settle in, a yell of agony and suffering sounds from outside,Ruby being the first to jump to action, grabbing Crescent Rose and heading outside, Weiss soon following with Myrtenaster.

As they near the source, a young man in rather odd looking clothing steps out from the alley, his clothing torn to pieces, rather old weapons slung on his shoulder and in his hands, ones not seen for almost centuries. "What in remnant..?" Weiss said softly as she watched. The young man, Albeit around Weiss's age, was covered in blood, from numerous cuts and lacerations on his body, he looked... Confused... Scared... The two quickly ran over, putting their weapons away, the young man stumbled, Weiss catching himand laying him on the ground.

He spoke with a soft, Pained voice, "Where am I...? What is this place..." He said, Weiss looked at him confused, gently pushing him back down as he tried to sit up, "You're in mistral..." She said, the man looked even moreso confused, "Mistral...? No.. Im supposed to be in Normandy... Fighting... Where's Lawrence...?" He asked, sitting up, calling for the one called Lawrence. Weiss pushed him back down, "You need to rest sir, you're extremely injured.." She said, the man fell back, fading back into unconciousness, the two dragged the youn man inside and up to their inn room, the power flickering back to life, they laid him on a couch, the pair tending to his wounds, Weiss giving the gentlest care she could, gently reading his ID tags, "Donald Mycroft... That must be his name..." She looked at him, then back to the tags, "Nancy Mycroft..?" she said quietly and curiosly, ruby piped up, "Maybe thats his Mom," She said, finishing up with her part, she washed her hands, Weiss finished up soon after, doing the same, but she stayed with the young man, she was curious, wondering who he was, what he was like, and why he seemed so confused when they found him.

Her eyes drifted to his weapons, crafted of metal and wood, looked rather... Old... She picked up the handgun, a Colt M1911A1, the handgun felt heavy in her hand, cumbersome, she was used to the slim, light, contoured grip of her rapier, but the young man held it like it was an extension of himself, she gently set it back down, picking up the other, a Thompson M1A1, and odd looking gun, still cumbersome and heavy for the Heiress, but it was well crafted, she set it back down and knelt next to the young man, her head on her arms on the couch next to him, the storm subsiding to a downpour, the sound of the rain on the roof soothed the young Heiress to sleep.


End file.
